Of Fathers and Fathers
By gregpoet
His eyes which were as of a hawk's, are dulled and dimmed by age. He holds his paper at arm's length and barely sees the page. He lifts a palm, the knuckles gnarled from working year to year. He cups his ear and tilts his head, but still can barely hear. His speech is slow with quavering voice, a fading memory cannot recall the years gone by with any accuracy. The power which his hands once held, the swollen joints can't show. There's constant pain in both his knees, his legs can hardly go. The back that once was full of strength, that held his frame erect, is bowed and bent, it's power gone, a cane supports each step. But let us give complete support, with accolade full loud. For these are whom have made us men to stand up tall and proud. No derelicts here, no quick rejects, for Fate itself shall show, we fathers of today shall be grand-fathers of tomorrow. Our joints shall swell, our strengths shall go, our backs shall ache with pain. What we ignore, shall come around to visit once again. These men have served their country well, our heroes they should be. Their time is now, today it's them; tomorrow?....you and me! Written by Gregory Fitt Written November 10th, 2001 © on Nov 10 2001 01:02 PM PST 0 • 9
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"His eyes which were as of a hawk's,..."